


Loss

by Rooscha



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Adult Content, F/M, Heartbreaking, Miscarriage, Natural Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rooscha/pseuds/Rooscha
Summary: The Prime is called across the galaxy to quell a Decepticon uprising, and Elita finds out she's carrying his Newspark. When he cannot make it to her in time to stablize the sparkling, her frame reabsorbs the newspark and she suffers a tragic miscarriage. A glimpse into the realities of war and the tragedy of a life cut short. Bring tissues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Very mature themes here - no smut, but realistic heartbreak and a lot of talking about a miscarriage and loss of life. Please read at your own risk, not a lighthearted read. Also not connected in any way to my other fics, this is normal Prime and Elita, nothing shattered glass.

"I'm sorry, Elita. These things just happen sometimes. There's no rhyme or reason for it." Ratchet's deep baritone wrapped around both femmes sitting on the berth. Elita's shoulders were shaking in her grief, but Chromia was making a valiant effort to keep her arms locked around her best friend. 

"What do we need to do now, Ratchet?" Chromia asked, pulling Elita more upright and pushing the red femme's face into the crook of her neck. Ironhide was out in the shooting range, but he was on his way back - and Primus, she wished he'd hurry. 

"The newspark should reabsorb with no issues within the orn. There may be a few surges as her systems make use of the energy. She might even overload, given that she was sparked up by a Prime. Who knows what kind of boost the Matrix may have given him?" Ratchet only felt mildly guilty about speaking about Elita like she wasn't there. The Consort was sobbing like her life depended on it. As a medic, he was used to giving bad news to his patients. He was less accustomed to giving them to his friends.

The medbay chime went off, and Ratchet pinged Ironhide with their location in the back of the bay. The grizzled warrior turned the corner and stomped over to his own mate and his protege's bonded. Without an ounce of hesitation, the red mech clambered onto the berth and pulled both femmes into his arms. 

Ratchet nearly smiled at the sight. Despite some knock-down drag-out fights recently, they were all friends and would do anything to support each other. Nothing illustrated this concept more than the scariest General in the Autobot army gently petting two femmes sniffling on his laps. 

"For the moment, we wait until the newspark reintegrates. We keep an optic on 'Lita and make sure that she is as healthy as we can get her to be. This is only the first stage of her grief. When the Lug gets back, we make sure that he is prepped to take over her care for a while. I don't care what Prowl wants to say, he has to care for her for a while. And she won't be in any state to leave Iacon."

"And there's no way to get Optimus a fast shuttle or a ground bridge to get back in time?" Ironhide rumbled, not pausing in his petting. 

"Prowl has done everything he can, apparently. I was in the room when he was calling Springer to see if the Wreckers could take the Xantium. We all want him here, Ironhide. It's not for lack of trying." Ratchet said, settling with his aft against the opposing berth and watching the pile of mecha on the other berth closely. Elita could turn suicidal at any point.

"Prime needs to be here. He has a duty to his mate. He shouldn't have gone to Itaxatl!" Ironhide hissed, doubling his hold on Elita when her sobbing renewed again. Chromia snarled, pushing against the hand on her helm.

"You're just mad that he left without you! And besides that, you're a slagging hypocrite! You leave me all the time to go off to the exhaust end of the galaxy and you never think twice about it. It's your job, just like it's his. And how could anyone have known that they'd sparked? It's no one's fault, and you know it." Her optics darkened, helm tilted upwards to stare her mate dead on. 

"I know, Mia. I just... It's only that -"

"We know, Hide. We're all in the same position now."

Ironhide turned back to the CMO, "Have you been in contact with Optimus? Do you know if he knows? Just because Prowl was asking around doesn't mean that he actually knows." 

"I haven't told him yet. Wanted to make sure that there was nothing to be done to try and mitigate the guilt," he paused, turning to the vidscreen and opening a channel to their illustrious Prime. "But luckily for us, Prowl says that he should be out of the field by now, and is off shift for the moment."

Never had the vidscreen hold music seemed so irritating nor ominous. The wait times to get to the Prime were understandably long, as Communications had to run everything through SpecOps before audio would connect. Video was even longer, and Ratchet wasn't willing to wait. Audio would do just fine. Not letting him Elita in this state was only a small portion of his decision.

"This is Optimus Prime, go ahead, Iacon." 

Ratchet moved a bit further towards the audio hub, hoping that Elita's quiet sobbing was muffled enough to let him speak clearly and not distract his Prime. Her helm had popped up as she heard her mate's voice, but then sank back into Ironhide's arms, quieting and curling up as small as she could get. Back to the living, finally. 

"Optimus, Ratchet here. I have some bad news for you." He paused, waiting for Optimus to respond. The green connection light pulsed steadily, but there was no word from his Prime. "The first thing to know is that Elita will be fine. Everyone will be fine. But, Optimus, my friend, Elita sparked just before you took off for your offensive front. The newspark won't survive without its sire to nourish it, and we cannot get you here in time." Ratchet's voice had started strong, but was cracking by the end. Optimus and Elita deserved a happily ever after tale for their newspark, not a tragic reabsorption of a desperately wanted sparkling. 

"I see. I am assuming Prowl has been alerted and has tried to get me back to Iacon?" Prime sounded tired, more than just a physical exhaustion. This could be a personal blow that would set back the Autobots. Even telling him now was a risk. They were perilously close to losing ground at Itaxatl, which is the reason Prime had decided to go out in the first place. 

"Yes, Optimus. Everything was used. We just don't have the luxury of time. The newspark decided to show itself to its carrier late last orn. Now would be the time for a merge to stabilize it into orbit. I am truly sorry, there's nothing we can do." Ratchet's hands wrung in front of his abdomen, and he knew that an audio only connection had been a good idea. 

"Is Elita being cared for?" Optimus asked, sound truly worried. Of course he knew better than to ask if his Consort was okay. She wouldn't be okay for a long while still. 

"Yes, Ironhide and Chromia are going to stay with her and make sure that she doesn't do anything rash. We are all here for you both, Optimus. When will you be back?"

"On the next high speed shuttle. It was supposed to be here two orn ago, but was delayed by heavy enemy fire. Hopefully within the next decaorn. I trust she will be well taken care of in my absence?" 

"'Course, Prime." Ironhide piped up, still dutifully purring his engine and petting a now nearly recharging Elita. 

"Thank you, my friends. I am humbled by you yet again." Optimus' voice cracked as well, a little static right behind his words. Ratchet recognized the behavior - he was being strong for his mate. 

"That's all we have from Iacon, Prime. I am truly sorry to bring you such news. Iacon out."

"Wait, Ratchet," Optimus said, his voice quieting to almost a whisper. "Was it a little mech or a femme?" 

"It was too early to tell, but I think it had a good chance of being a little femme. It was dark around the edges." 

"Will there be any pain to either of them?" 

"No, Optimus. Not to either of them. The only pain will be mental."

"Thank you. Itaxatl Out."

Silence reigned for a few moments in the medbay. Then Ratchet stood up taller, taking charge of his patient yet again.

"Hide, Mia, please take her to your rooms and let her rest."

XXXXXX

As it turned out, Elita did overload when her newspark reintegrated into her own. They were all struck by the beauty of the sad moment. At a time when she should have been miserable, her ecstasy was clear to both Ironhide and Chromia. Once it was done, she had sighed and gone back into recharge. Mia and Hide had cuddled, and been ready to support the Consort when needed. 

After about six orn, Elita was waking and recharging on her own, with no one chasing her to do so. The next day she started taking up a few admin duties, obviously to distract herself. The day after, she had screamed at Ratchet that she didn't need looking after like a sparkling, and that she wasn't going to kill herself. He seemed less than impressed. All they could do was sit and help when they could, and wait for Optimus to get back and reclaim his bonded. 

XXXXXX

It was amazing how little had really changed since he had left Iacon, but how different he felt about it. Usually coming back to Iacon meant coming home, home to his city, his people and his fiery mate. This time, he almost didn't want to come home. Facing Elita after his abandonment of her was going to be the toughest challenge of his life thus far. He would much rather face Megatron on the battlefield than do what he was about to do. Which was why he found himself standing before his door in the Officer's wing, wasting time. She was in there. By herself. Probably sleeping. 

Gathering his nerve, Optimus opened the door and crept in. The lights were at ten percent, the lowest they would go to for safety reasons. Red Alert and SpecOps had cameras in every part of their quarters except for the wash rack and the berthroom. Nothing had changed. It made his battlemask want to engage. No signs of life at all. 

He deviated left, into the wash rack and started heating the oil bath for the both of them. The heat would soothe his wounded knee, and would hopefully relax her sore chestplates. Then he placed two chamois on the heated rack and went to collect his Consort. 

She was sleeping on her side, knees pulled up toward her chest, looking vulnerable and beautiful. Her hands were gently resting on her chesplates, guarding a newspark who had re absorbed almost a decaorn ago. The intense fighting had set them behind for a long while, but he was here now. 

"Opt?" Her optics lit, the blue light falling upon his form at the edge of the berth. She didn't move, and neither did he. Not for a long while. They just stared at each other, neither knowing what to say to reassure the other.

"Elita. Come, we need to connect." He scooped her up, walking the short distance to the wash rack and sliding into the hot oil. They both sighed as the oil washed over them, and Elita leaned back against his chest. Her legs slowly unfurled and she relaxed. Their sparks beat in sync, helping them both feel measures better immediately. 

Silence hung over them for the better part of a joor, the loudest noises in the rack was their breathing and the heating mechanisms of the bath. 

"The moment I knew she was there, I loved her. One part me, one part of you. I couldn't help but name her immediately. I knew it was a her, too. There was no way she was a mech. I could feel her, Optimus. She was so beautiful. I know you're not supposed to get attached, not supposed to name them until the frame is constructed. But I couldn't help it." 

His arms tightened around her reflexively. For the first time in a very long time, he felt helpless. Usually he could order troops, smash Megatron or pass legislation. Today there was nothing to do but help his mate and himself heal. And this was part of the process. Talking. 

"I am so regretful, my love. I keep having visions of a beautiful femme and you, sleeping on our berth, laughing and so full of life. I regret that she returned to the Well. The other Primes tell me that she is universally loved by all there." 

At that, Elita smiled relaxed even further, but cleanser overwhelmed her optics and a few small tears rolled off the sides of her face and landed on his chestplates. 

"It's no one's fault, Optimus. In a way, I am so happy that she is safe and warm with Primus and is surrounded by those who love her. But I hurt that I never got to see her before she went."

"We will see her again. And we will raise many others in between. We will get through this, Elita. You and I, with the help of our family. We will all be okay again. It's going to a long and rough road, but I love you. You are my bonded. We will get through this."

Silence overcame the room again, but this time it was more relaxed, more comfortable. Elita's venting had become rhythmic and quiet. His hands made a gentle cycle between her hips and her shoulders, over and over again. It would be quite a while before either of them were ready for physical intimacy, but it would return again one day. And until then, they were content to be with each other. 

"Her name was going to be Flameswept."

And for the first time, they wept together.


End file.
